It's your fault
by Laurho
Summary: Nick was married before the infection started, but it's never really touched upon as to why it fell apart. There's a reason he doesn't want to talk about it, even a man like him doesn't want to have to relive the night that everything went down the drain. (One shot from the pre-infection era.)


The cool marble of the kitchen's counter was grasped tightly by Nick's hands, the whiteness of his knuckles almost matching the shade of it. The only sound within the room was the echo of his wife's yelling, the shrillness of it pounded against his ears. The same words screamed over and over again, each one hitting harder than last time. "This is _your_ fucking fault Nicolas." His gray eyes remained glued to the floor, watching the shadow of his wife's movements. The conman had always been a man of his bets, and tonight, he'd put a lot of money on the fact that he'll probably be a single man once more before the week ends. The two years the couple had underneath them meant nothing in this moment, as Nick stood rigid, taking the barrage of insults from the brunette standing before him. His family had assured him that any marriage he got into would fail miserably, and he had taken the last years in pride, sticking up to his fucks that he called parents, but obviously they had been right all along.

A soft sigh escaped his dry lips, as his eyes flicked up towards his assailant. The fighting and arguing he expected, the reasoning behind it however, was foreign to him. Surely, Nick expected to be fighting because he cheated, stole, or gambled away the last of their savings, but no. He _wished_ that was the reasoning, wished that maybe he could have been caught in bed with another woman over what he was currently being blamed for, because the feeling of guilt that this argument was bringing him was far worse. _It wasn't his fault. _As much as she was hammering it into his head, the conman refused to believe it. Though now it was getting harder and harder to do so.

"Audrey, sweetheart,_ I_ didn't do this, you know I wanted this as much as you. Blaming me is complete bullshit." He retorted, his normal sardonic tone far gone, replaced by a much calmer, and tired one. The woman's frame trembled slightly, most likely in a suppressed anger, before she closed the distance between the two, raising her hands and swatting useless at the elder man. Nick let himself be hit by her fist a few times, before raising his own to capture her wrists gently. "Stop- Drey_, stop_, it's not going to change anything." He warned, a faintly pained look managing to pass through his well perfected poker face. It was then that Audrey's defenses broke, and she crumpled into the man's arms, sob after painful sob ripping from her body. Nick swallowed the small lump in his throat, allowing the woman to rest with his grip. They weren't getting passed this, he could be sure of it. It had already been two weeks, and it wasn't getting better. Nick shook his head, clearing the dark thoughts that had settled there, before scooping up his wife, carrying her to the bedroom quickly.

It was only after he had finally calmed her down enough, and gotten her to sleep, that the man stepped out into the hallway. With reluctant steps, Nick found himself walking towards the freshly painted room at the end of the hall. Leaning against the door frame, his eyes took in every aspect of the hand decorated room. The smell of the fuchsia paint lingered, the color matching with the other accessories that had been strewn across the area. Lastly, his gaze fell upon the crib, already set up for the day their newborn baby would have come home for the first time. The mobile above it spun slowly, regardless of the still air that occupied the home. He had finally warmed up to the idea of having a little spawn of himself running around the house, only to have that idea ripped from him so suddenly he didn't even believe at first. His beautiful would-be daughter had been a stillbirth. It had been the first time he'd experienced a loss that was so close to him, and perhaps it _was_ his fault. If he had just reminded his wife to stay healthy, or to visit and schedule more doctor appointments, then maybe this wouldn't have happened, and he could be currently rocking some snot-nosed kid to sleep. '_His_ snot-nosed kid' he had to correct himself solemnly.

It was that thought alone that stayed in his mind the rest of the night, even as he packed up everything to his name, and loaded it absently into his car. He had taken one last look at his house, quickly taking something from his would be daughter's room, before pulling off his wedding band, and leaving it on the table for his wife to see when she awoke. Nick then quietly left the house, driving as far as he could until his gas tank ran dry, his only company being a small pink colored stuffed bear with the name 'Victoria' stitched into its chest.

* * *

_So he's a little OOC, I get it, but you would probably be too._


End file.
